A Study in Assumptions
by Bagting Hangin
Summary: Hamish's new teacher is very concerned about her student's well-being, especially because the little boy describes his nightmare-like life as if it was the most ordinary thing.


For sherlolly29.

o-o-o

Anne stepped onto the platform at Barbican Station and decided to walk the block and a half up to Charterhouse Square to ease her nerves. It was her first day of work at Charterhouse School and at only 21 years old, she was probably one of the youngest professional preschool teachers in the UK. Well, if she did alright today, she would be. She checked her appearance in a nearby glass panel: brown hair perfect, not a strand out of place in its bun; makeup flawless, check; gray eyes... well, that's as good as that's gonna get. She sighed. At least her sundress made her look approachable but still professional. Time to face the music.

Charterhouse School may be non-selective, but some of Britain's brightest children went there. Anne knew she was very lucky to have gotten this job, so she made sure she arrived at the Headmistress's Office before her appointed time. She checked her watch. Eight. _Breathe_, she told herself.

"Oh, you're early!" Carla, the headmistress said in cheerful greeting. Anne had her interview via Skype when she was living in Scotland, so she was very relieved that her new boss was as kind in person as she'd been during their half-hour-long initial meeting.

"I'm very happy to be working here. Thank you for accepting me," Anne almost stammered.

Carla waved her thanks off good-naturedly. "Your credentials were very impressive. Top of your class as the University of Glasgow, rave reviews from the people you interned for at Dundee… I'm happy _you _are here."

Anne's cheeks warmed. "I've always wanted to work with children. Like I've mentioned during my interview, I grew up an only child so I'm really looking forward to doing my job here,"

The headmistress nodded understandingly. "Well, you will find some really bright kids here, starting with… _that one_," she gestured toward the window and Anne could see a small group of children sitting around a tree seemingly having a picnic breakfast together. Sitting on a high tree branch was a little boy who looked about five to seven. He had a mop of curly hair, a book in one hand, and an apple in the other. His back was resting on the tree trunk while his little legs were precariously balanced on the branch. Anne's face paled with worry.

The headmistress put a hand on her arm. "That child is very special and he is in your class. I hope you take good care of him. He's a very good boy," she said kindly. "Lessons start at nine. If you have questions at the end of the day, please come and see me again in the afternoon at half-five, all right?"

Anne smiled and nodded, determined to make a good impression.

o-o-o

**Classroom**

Anne smiled as the little children started filing in, taking whichever desks they fancied. She smiled at them and helped them get their little coats and backpacks off before sitting in her own chair in front of the class. The teacher's desk she'd pushed toward one end of the classroom so there were no barriers between her and the kids. She addressed them warmly. "My name is Ms. Drummond, and I will be your teacher this year. I am very happy to meet you all. We will doing a lot of fun stuff this year, but we will be learning a lot of things, too. As you can probably tell, I'm from Scotland. How about you? Can you tell me about yourselves?"

A boy with chestnut hair, blue eyes, and a little upturned nose dressed in a miniature bespoke(?!) suit complete with waistcoat raised his hand.

Anne nodded at him. "Yes?"

The boy regarded her coolly but politely. "My name is Siger Sherrinford Holmes the Third. I am five years old. My father is the government." All around him, the children smiled and nodded, as if what the little boy said wasn't weird in the least.

"Oh… kay?" Anne ventured. "What does that mean?"

At that, Little Siger went from miniature gentleman to the sweet little 5-year-old boy he really was. "I don't know, but that is what my father always says when my mum makes him do the washing up," His classmates giggled, so Siger giggled too, before sitting down.

_Must be a government official, _the teacher thought, smiling at the little guy. "How about your mother, Siger? What does she do?"

Siger put a finger in front of his lips before leaving his seat and running toward her. He then hugged her and whispered in her ear. "My mother is a spy,"

Anne nodded conspiratorially and hugged the little boy back. He then went back to his seat, but not before hugging another little boy with dark curls, intelligent-looking blue eyes, and a little upturned nose. _Brothers?_ Anne wondered. She'll find out later.

A little girl with fiery red hair and bright blue eyes stood up next and started talking really quickly.

Anne giggled. "Sorry, sweetheart. Could you say that again? A little slower this time, please." The other children laughed good-naturedly.

Siger patted the girl's arm. "It's okay, Tiffany. Ms. Drummond's just new. You can go back to your normal pace in a few weeks,"

"Okay," Tiffany replied. She then turned to Anne. "My name is Tiffany Swift-Sheeran. I'm sorry. I talk too fast, just like my dad. My dad is a musician, and when he sings, he talks really fast. My mum is American, and she's a singer, too."

_Oh,_ _that explains the accent_. Anne thought. Finally, she gestured at the little boy with the dark curls. "How about you, sir? Are you and Siger brothers?"

The boy then looked as if he'd bitten into a lemon. "No. Siger is my cousin,"

Anne giggled again. "Ah. What is your name?"

The curly-haired boy stood up smiled, stood up, and ran across the room to sit on her lap. "My name is Hamish. I'm five, too. My mother is a doctor and my father doesn't have a job,"

"I'm sorry to hear that," Anne's heart broke a little for the little boy. Times really were tough for everyone.

The little boy, however, continued to be the picture of joy. "Oh, no! I love it! He's always curled up on the couch when I get home. We take naps together in the afternoons and on Fridays, we receive strangers in our sitting room. They talk about problems and I'm never allowed to listen," Hamish said sadly.

Anne hugged the little boy. _Must be social workers, _she thought. She then spoke softly to him. "Does he take good care of you?"

The little boy nodded enthusiastically. "Oh, yes! He even lets me play with the skull on our mantlepiece!"

The young teacher was horrified. "Siger? Is that true?"

Siger smiled and nodded. "Oh, yes. My uncle does let Hamish play with the skull as long as he doesn't break it,"

Anne hugged the little boy closer. "Will… will your mother be available to talk to later today?"

Hamish's face fell. "No. She's working the late shift tonight, so Homeless Billy will pick me up later,"

Anne's eyes widened. "What?"

Hamish smiled as he started to explain. "Homeless Billy used to be a junkie — I don't know what that is because nobody wants to explain. He picks me up from school when my father is busy."

Anne felt a spark of indignant anger in her chest. "I'm going to have to talk to your father later, then. Do you have his number?"

"Uh-huh! He doesn't like to talk on the phone though. Says he'd rather text,"

It was all Anne could do not to call social services. She'd at least meet with Hamish's parents first. The little boy is very smart. He deserves only the best.

o-o-o

The rest of the schoolday went by uneventfully. Anne taught the children about the birds they saw on the grounds near Charterhouse, and they identified the trees in the park. They had a picnic and the children shared their lunches, and, later in the afternoon, their snacks with one another. Anne for her turn bought everyone ice cream. It was a really good day for everyone. She then saw everyone off, waited with the children for their parents. Anne was happy to meet the parents with her students, and was even a little starstruck when she met Tiffany's mum and dad. Siger was picked up by an important-looking gentleman who'd politely inclined his head at her before walking toward the car where a beautiful lady waited for them.

By five, no Billy arrived and understandably, Hamish was sad. "I suppose we will have to wait for Mum to arrive. I'm sorry for keeping you, Ms. Drummond," he said. The two of them were seated on the stoop of Charterhouse, the red brick of the Georgian structure cool beneath them.

Anne smiled at him. "That's okay. I don't mind. I just moved here from Scotland a couple of days ago and I don't know anyone yet. Even if I did, I still wouldn't mind sitting here with you. By the way, are there any other grownups where you live?"

Hamish nodded. "Mrs Hudson, our landlady, lives downstairs from us in 221A. My mum, my dad, and I live in 221B. I have 2 other brothers: Arthur is 16 and Charlie is 14. They don't come home everyday. They only come home on holidays so it gets very sad. They will both be at university by the time I'M ready for Westminster," he sobbed.

Anne hugged the boy again. "I'm so sorry to hear that, Hamish. Don't worry. You have plenty of friends here, and we will have a lot of fun during lessons, okay?"

The little boy nodded.

Six-thirty rolled around and there was still no sign of the mother. Anne took Hamish by the hand into the headmistress's office where the teacher got the boy's mother's number and called her office.

"Hello, this is Doctor Hooper. I'm sorry but I am unavailable at the moment. Please leave a message after the beep," Anne closed her eyes and willed herself not to forcefully put down the receiver so as not to scare the child beside her. The headmistress, surprisingly, was not the least bit alarmed. _Was this something that happened regularly?_ Anne wondered. As if in answer to her question, the headmistress smiled benignly at her… or rather, at someone behind her.

"I'm sorry for being so very late," a melodious baritone voice said. Anne turned around. It was SHERLOCK HOLMES.

The headmistress shook her head. "That's quite all right, Sherlock. We all know about the important work you do for the city. Besides, Hamish's class had a snack at four-thirty, so he shouldn't be hungry,"

Anne was sure she had to pick her jaw up from the floor. Even in his fifties, Sherlock Holmes was still a devastatingly handsome man. "I… I…"

Sherlock held out his hand for her to shake. It took her a moment to realize that but when she did, she enthusiastically shook hands with the famous detective. He was smiling at her. "Thank you so much for taking good care of my youngest today. Miss…" he looked at her ID. "Drummond. I hope your recent move from Scotland wasn't too hard for you. Afternoon," he said with a wink before he lifted his son up, settled the wee one on his hip, and strode off with a flourish. Hamish for his part turned and waved goodbye at her. "Bye, Miss Drummond! Bye, Headmistress Simmons!"

Anne still couldn't believe her eyes. "Was that..?"

The headmistress smiled dreamily and nodded. "Yes. Yes, it was."


End file.
